


Free Like A Bird

by Lucem_x



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Gen, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Partying, Self-Harm, Suicide, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-10 07:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19902004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucem_x/pseuds/Lucem_x
Summary: One day in Avis' life changes everything, but not to the better.





	1. Chapter 01

**Author's Note:**

> Backstory:  
> I wrote the original version of this story in 2016. We had a german exam in school and there were two tasks, one was writing a story to a picture and the other... I don't remember (even though I chose to do that one). Anyways, that picture inspired me so much that I had a whole story in my head. I decided to write it. And I found it again this year, read it and here I am now. Because I feel like I could write more than what I did back then.

Rainy days, especially the ones in the middle of summer, are my favorite. Just like today. It's also pretty convenient to have a view over the lake when one of your favorite things to do is watch other people. Right now their priority is most definitely to pack all their stuff. However, most of the boys don’t seem to worry about the rain. They're throwing grass at each other, shouting things I don’t hear, while also packing their stuff. The girls, on the other hand, seem to be rather unhappy about the sudden change of weather. Covering their slightly shivering bodies with towels, packing their stuff faster than the boys. A rumble of thunder makes some of them wince, more girls than boys, though. Just seconds later a thunderbolt illuminates the sky, causing some of the girls to take off screaming. _Are they afraid of thunderstorms?_ Another thunderbolt makes a couple of girls scream again, the ones who aren’t in the café already. I can’t understand why they’re scared. When I was younger, I used to stay outside, swirled around in the rain. Danced, laughed, had fun. People would stare at me, _those girls sure would stare at someone like me too._ Their faces showed what they thought: How can someone enjoy such bad, scary weather? But to me it’s not bad, it’s calming and makes the air smells better too. I open the window a bit and am immediately greeted by the wind. I feel the soft, slightly wet breeze on my skin and the room fills with the lovely scent of rain. The clouds make the world appear darker than the sun did. My room looks darker too, most likely because the white wall doesn’t look as bright anymore and the black furniture, rug, and bedsheets prevail. The light-string behind my bed is the only turned on light in my room, it’s not very bright, though, and some of the light-bulbs flicker. It’s like my inner emotions are projected onto the world now. Maybe that’s why I feel somewhat better now. Another breeze enters my room; the smell of rain mixed with the smell of my plants is heavenly. Sitting on my windowsill on days like today, leaning back, listening to the rain. Perfection. I’m glad I finished redecorating my room. Of course, my parents paid for everything, a present for my 16th birthday. _How nice of them._ They have enough money to do that. _Should I be grateful? I guess so._ However, I am not. Maybe I would’ve been if they showed any interest at all, but they haven’t even seen my room yet. They were busy with work and planning the yearly holiday trip, to which they left yesterday. Just mum, dad and my little brother having fun at the beach. I used to go with them but now I’d rather stay at home. My parents don’t care, never tried to convince me to come with them. Maybe it's best that way, I am not fun to be around anyways. It’s hard to believe that I once wasn't this much of a mess. I was a happy child actually, always happy. I never really fought with my brother or my parents. Well, at least rather seldom. But look at me now; Home alone, watching people outside have fun, making the best out of the rain, while blood’s dripping on my leg. As the people disappear into the mall and cafés around the park the noise dies down. Everything is so calm now. If I was younger now, I would definitely be outside jumping, laughing, dancing My parents would call for me to come into the house, but stubborn as I am, I would stay outside and jump into every puddle. Eventually, they would carry me back into the house, make me some hot chocolate. They never made it themselves, though. The housekeeping lady made it for me. It was so tasty. Sweet but not too sweet, I can almost taste it. Something vibrates, and I am forced back into reality. My phone. I bet it’s Tate.

„Hello?"

„Hi, Av! Whatcha doin'?" _Yeah, as I thought._ It's the voice of my idiotic, best friend on the other end of the line. Happy as always.

„Oh, the usual. Cutting while listening to the rain. The blood makes a cute pattern on my legs." My answer is rather emotionless, but he has known me long enough to not expect any different. I look at my arm, a line of blood is running down. It takes a couple of seconds before the drop falls and lands on my leg.

„Did you cut again?" He tries to hide the amusement in his voice, but I know it's there. Pathetic, that's what he thinks I am. Never says it, doesn't want to hurt my feelings I guess.

„Yeah. It makes me feel better. Also, isn't it funny to see the droplets of blood?" Another line is running down, my eyes follow it.

„Uhm... I guess? Look, maybe- Maybe you should stop hurting yourself?" He speaks before the blood drops onto my leg. That's his way of caring. Speaking softly, giving advice that doesn't help. It's because he doesn't understand self-harm. He's one of the people who get to be happy. He means well, though, I know that.

„Easier said than done." I earn myself a sigh from the other end.

„If you say so. Anyways, I didn't call randomly, though." There's a bit of excitement hidden in his voice.

„Alright, what do you want?" I let go of my sad topic and change my way of talking into the more socially acceptable one.

„Nothing. I mean. Okay, listen. I know you will hate this, but there is a party today. It's not that far away from my place and I decided we're going!" All the hidden excitement from earlier has now come to the surface.

„You are right, I hate this idea. I will not go th-"

„I don't care if you want to or not, we're gonna have fun tonight. So get yourself together, dress up nice and put some makeup on. I'll see you at eight." The decision is made, time is set and before I can say anything against it, he hangs up. _Dammit._

Parties are extremely boring if you are the girl nobody wants to talk to. Tate is the only friend I have. I never got to make new ones; I never wanted to either. Our city isn't that big and all the teenagers here are trash. _Throw them in the bin._ Fuckboys, who only want one-night-stands. Annoying bitches who only care about two things. Where the next party is and boys. All I hear them talk about during lunch break are boys. Who's a good kisser? Who's the best in bed? Whose dick feels the nicest? _Stay away from me with that bullshit._ And it's not like I'm only assuming they are like that. I tried to be friends with some, but my first impression of them always turned out to be correct. The notification for a software update makes my phone light up, I postpone it and involuntarily look at the time now. I stare at it until the screen goes black. 7 pm, one hour left until Tate gets me. I walk towards my wardrobe and take my favorite skirt. After throwing my pyjama on my chair, I step into the black piece of fabric and pull it up to my waist. It's still long enough to touch my ankles and brushes softly against my bare skin. Choosing a shirt is harder. I spend at least 5 minutes looking at all my shirt I decide to wear a black t-shirt, that I will tuck in. 10 minutes later, spend with tucking and pulling on the shirt and skirt, I am satisfied with my outfit. Now the part I dread the most. I stretch up to the highest shelf and between my winter clothes and some other stuff I barely ever use, I find my make-up bag. I take it down and blow the bit of dust away. _Guess I haven't used you in some time._ I stand in front of my mirror and start applying everything the way I see people on social media do it. Approximately 10 minutes and a 5-minute long emotional breakdown, later I am done. And, considering that I barely ever use make-up, it doesn't look too bad. I put everything back in the bag. The doorbell rings, and I brush my hair on the way there. When I open it, Tate stands behind it, dressed in all black. The weather is chilly enough for him to wear his favorite leather jacket, the one he usually never gets to wear in summer.

„Heyo! Who's _that_ beauty and where's Avis?" He shakes his hand as if he just touched a hotplate. Then we both laugh.

„What's with your hair? Was the blond alone too boring?" He pushes his hair back and smiles at me.

„You like it?" His hair used to be a greyish blond, the roots darker than the rest. Now some of the tips are blue, but not everywhere, and not all of them. He shakes his hair and turns around, giving me the chance to look at it from every side. Some strands are entirely blue. He dances around, still shaking his head.

„I mean, it looks like an accident but if you like it." I can't help but laugh. He looks at me with a feigned, overdramatic pouty face. Making both of us laugh more. He really is one of the only people that can make me laugh anymore.

„Hell yeah. I love it actually. We should change your hair too." He's now sitting on my bed while I'm standing in front of the mirror, braiding my hip-long hair the way I always do.

„Why? Don't you like my black hair?" Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I see how he holds his hands up as if I was pointing a gun at him.

„No! They are fine, of course. But- Hold on. You hear that? My phone!" He looks like he's dancing the macarena while looking for his phone, bouncing up and down on my bed. „Fuck, where is this shit?" I walk to the shoe cabinet in the corridor. _He’s a big boy, I am sure he will find his phone without my help._ I take the only pair of high heels I own and put them on. To my surprise I keep my balance when standing up and walking towards the mirror isn’t as hard as I expected either.

„Damn, you look awesome." Tate, who holds his phone in his hand now, walks out of my room at looks at me.

„You think?" I turn from side to side, checking if I need to change anything.

„Duh. But now hurry, we gotta go." He throws my bag at me, a tiny black one. I barely have the time to put my stuff in though, because Tate grabs my arm and shoves me out the door.


	2. Chapter 02

About 10 minutes later we’re close to Tate’s place, the party’s just a few streets away so I guess we’ll be there in no more than 5 minutes. Far too soon in my opinion, especially because I don’t like being around drunk people. Loud, annoying, smelly, drunk people who jump around to music that’s just as annoying and loud as they are. I prefer sitting in the car over that. A black 1694 Chevrolet Impala; Tate repeated that over and over again. He got it for his 18th birthday last year, a present from his weird uncle. The newer cars, or _rich-kid-cars_ as we call them, don’t stand a chance against this beauty. The only bad thing about it is the smell of cigarettes that is stuck in the car because not only Tate smokes in the car, his uncle did as well. And that air freshener that’s hanging from the rearview doesn’t make the smell any better.

„I will park at my place, and we will walk there-“ Up to this point my eyes were closed but now I’m looking at Tate in a way that made him stop mid-sentence.

„I will not walk in these shoes more than I absolutely have to. However, you can carry me there if you really want to walk.“ A playful smile on my face, he swallows hard. I am not that heavy and rather small for a 16-year-old, so he could carry me with ease. Well, maybe with a couple breaks now and then but it should be doable.

„No thanks. I will make a few calls real quick. Someone will take us there. Sounds alright?“ I roll my eyes and he laughs while turning into the parking lot in front of his apartment building.

About 5 minutes later a car turns into the parking lot, music turned up louder than it should be. _Not even good music. But I didn’t expect anything else anyways._ The people inside shout our names as they get closer and a door opens before the car comes to a rest. The driver smiles at us and tells us to jump in. He seems to be the only sober person in this car, expect from Tate and me of course. As soon as the car moves again, the music is turned up louder. It’s not a long drive to the party, like two blocks away from Tate’s. It’s a pretty house that now contains, nearly overspills, with pretty teenagers. Perfect fit. The driver-guy lets Tate, the two drunk guys and I get out before he drives off to look for a parking spot. Good luck. A bunch of people, with red cups in their hands, are standing and sitting on the porch. Some wave, some ignore us. Two girls come to hug Tate, talk to him but ignore me as if I’m not there. The usual. After what feels like forever the two girls leave and we walk into the house. I understand now why all those people were on the porch. It’s full. At least half of my school is here and I’m pretty sure there are people from other schools as well. Everybody likes parties, well everybody but me. Some people look like they're one cup away from fainting, others look like they haven’t touched anything containing alcohol yet. Right now I’m one of the latter, let’s see how long Tate will accept that. We walk around for a bit, but it doesn’t take too long before a guy stumbles towards us. A bottle of something in each hand. Tate gestures me to wait and walks towards him. He gets one bottle and takes a sip. After talking a bit, he returns, the second bottle in his hand. „Drink,“ is all I hear him say. I guess he also told me what it is, but the music is too loud. I nod and take a sip. It doesn’t taste too good but also not bad either. Tate looks at me expectantly. „Good,“ I nearly scream at him, smiling as much as I can to signalize what I mean. He smiles, takes a sip from his bottle and starts moving to the music. He watches me take a few more sips before he tries to gestures that he’s going to a friend. The music is so loud that talking seems like a waste of time. And I would be pretty annoyed if the songs weren’t this good. Whoever’s throwing this party has to like the same music as me. I bounce to the music a bit and take a sip now and then. When Tate comes back, my bottle is nearly empty. Before I can react to him being back, he takes my wrist and pulls me across the room, where a bunch of people are dancing. The song that’s playing now is one of my favorites, and I can’t help but dance. It’s making me laugh, like actually laugh. I forget my life for a moment but as soon as the song stops the realization hits me and makes me feel down again. Tate seems to realize, he glances at me a few times before he rushes towards the kitchen. He returns shortly after with two full cups of … something. He takes a sip out of his and tells me to just trust him and drink. I do as he says and regret it right after. It tastes horrible. Like disinfectant. He laughs, I guess I can’t hide how disgusted I am by the taste.

The stuff in that cup makes me dizzy. Or maybe it’s not only that cup but all of the... I think 10 cups I’ve had? Or maybe even more? I lost count after the third one and Tate brought me a new one whenever mine was nearly empty. My dancing has to look awkward now, but what do I care? It’s so much fun. _And you only live once, or something like that. Right?_

„Hey, Tate. Avis, was it?“ A male voice. I turn around and see that guy that brought us drinks earlier. _Wasn’t his name Austin? I think it was._

„Yes, Avis is the name.“ I answer and can’t help but giggle.

„You two wanna take some drugs?“ He doesn’t say it very quietly but leans closer towards us. I feel Tate’s eyes on me. Waiting for my answer.

„What… Uhm… I don’t-“

„You don’t have to girly. What about you, bro?“ He winks at me before looking at Tate.

„Let me think…“

„Okay, you guys are too slow. Find me behind there when you want some.“ With that, he walks away. Or rather stumbles away.

Tate looks at me and I know what he’s going to ask me now.

„Would you mind if I-“

„Nah, go ahead. Be safe, though.“ A kiss on my cheek before he walks away. Turns around and waves for two steps stops because he nearly knocks some girl over, apologizes and walks away facing the right direction now.

Minutes later I find myself on the porch, some girls are talking to me about Tate. They talk about him as if everyone is crushing on him but me.

„His style is so cool, especially that leather jacket. And have you seen the blue in his hair? So hot.“

„Oh my, I agree. But his abs, underneath all his clothes. Damn.“

„And he’s so good in bed too. A real dream man.“

„And you really don’t have a crush on him?“ All of the four girls look at me expectantly. Do they hope that I will blur out and say that yes, I do? I have known this guy since I was in kindergarten, he’s family to me, the thought of being with him makes me want to puke.

„No, he’s more like a big brother to me.“ The look they give me now, basically screams that they don’t believe me. I’m about to say something when I feel my phone vibrate. I excuse myself while trying to get it out of my bag. _„Mum“_ , I take a deep breath and accept the call.

„Hi, mum. What is it?“ I might not sound as sober as I want to but I definitely do not sound as drunk as I am.

„Some-Something bad happened. Where are you?“ Her voice is silent and she’s sobbing.

„I’m out with Tate. Why? What is it? What happened?“ The questions come fast. What could be bad enough for my mum to call me this late at night?

„Jonah, he-“ Sobs interrupt her sentence. I feel how my hands are getting cold and I start to feel nervous. What could make mum this upset? Usually, she’s calm and collected in every situation.

„Jonah had an accident.“ My heart stops for a moment, then starts to beat faster than before.

„What? What happened?“

„He got hit by a car and is in hospital now.“ As soon as the words are out she starts to cry.

„What?! Is-Is he okay?“ It’s silent for a while before I hear some movement on the other line.

„The doctor said it looks bad.“ My dad's voice now, I hear mum crying in the background. I want to scream, shout, set the house on fire. Or the city, the entire world. But I can’t say a word. I feel tears rolling down my cheeks.

„I will keep you updated. But now we have to go.“ Nothing more, no other information. He just hung up.

My little brother, Jonah. He’s 14 years old, two years younger than me. He behaves much more mature than that tough. We barely fight and when we do we talk it out after we both calm down. Sometimes we even do our homework together; he can’t help me of course but I try to help him. Hard to believe but doing my homework with him is funny and makes me feel smart. We do more than that together, though. In summer, when we both are at home, we like to ride our bikes around the neighborhood. Getting ice cream, playing with the animals on a farm, not that far away from us. I like spending time with him. He and Tate are the only people who get me out of my room and make me laugh, genuinely laugh. I don’t know what I would do if he actually dies. I would have to do my homework alone, in silence. No laughing anymore. And our bikes would stay in the garage until our parents would have to throw them away because they got too rusty. _Would my parents care even less about me than they already do?_ Jonah found me in my bed once, arms covered in blood. Mum made me get help then but didn’t care if I actually went. When I told my parents that I stopped going to therapy they told me to be happy. Told me it’s something positive, it’s a sign I don’t need help anymore. When I cut again, they asked me where the wounds are from and I would blame it on Tate’s cat. They didn’t care enough to realize that he doesn’t have a cat. They didn’t even question anything when Tate accidentally said that he’s allergic to cats. They are just too busy with work. I feel like I’m far away from the music and people behind me. Subconsciously I start to walk but don’t get too far before my legs feel weak and I sit down onto the cold, wet grass. Tears are streaming down my face now. I brush over my arm, feel my scars. It’s a habit of mine when I can’t make new ones I touch my old ones. I sit there for a while until my legs feel like they can walk again.


	3. Chapter 03

It has to be around midnight now and it’s rather dark outside. The only light comes from some street lights. Some of them flicker, others don’t work at all. I should've brought a jacket because the air is chilly, but at least it’s not raining anymore. I don’t know how long I’ve been walking but all the houses are far behind me now. Replaced by nature. A meadow, a mix of tall and short flowers and weed, on my left. And on the right, a forest, the dim light makes it appear much creepier than it is. Apart from the wind, it’s completely silent and calm. There isn’t anybody else. I’m all alone. My tears stopped coming a few meters ago. The sound of a train passing somewhere behind, or in, the forest makes me wince. It breaks the silence and wakes up some birds. They fly away but soon the silence returns. The smell of nature reminds me of my room. I love sitting in front of our windows and watch the bird. It’s better than watching TV. Even Jonah would sometimes join me, pointing at the different birds. I always make up stories for them then. Give them funny names and something they have to do. He loves detective birds. His giggles give me a warm feeling, even if I felt bad just minutes before that. _How big is the chance that I get to hear his laugh again? Will I ever get to hug him again? Shit._ Dad said that it looked bad. Maybe I will never see him alive again. And I barely spend time with him while I redecorated my room. Now, I might not spend time with him ever again.

A sound coming from behind me interrupts my thinking. I turn around and see two lights coming my way. The lights don’t look like the ones from a car and the sound doesn’t fit a car either. I turn back and keep walking, looking at the ground. Is it normal that people drive here this late at night? I realize now that being out this late, far away from everything is a stupid idea. Don’t we learn about the dangers in school? The noise comes closer and I see two motorcycles. They stop some meters in front of me, their lights still on. Shining on me. I squint my eyes but can only make out the silhouettes of two men. Should I run back? They would be faster than me. What do I do now? What do they even want?

„Why is a pretty lady like you out at this time?“ The bigger one of the two. He’s got more belly as well. Fatty.

„And all alone. Don’t you think that’s a bad idea?“ He’s shorter than Fatty but still taller than me. Shorty.

„Wha-What do you wa-want?“ My voice gives away that I’m scared. _I have every right, don’t I?_ A girl that’s drunk and walking around alone. Late at night, somewhere near a creepy forest.

„Just a bit of… Fun.“ Fatty.

They push me, back and forth between the two of them. Pulling on my hair and shirt. Shorty takes my bag and throws it to the ground before pushing me back to Fatty. He places his hands on my hips and turns me around to face him. I only see his chest, that’s how much taller he is. He lowers his face. I look away, but he takes my face and forces me to look at him. I try to push him away from me, but he leans in closer. Before he gets to do what he was planning to Shorty interrupts him and makes me face him. „It’s my turn,“ he says. I feel Fatty’s hands pulling up my shirt before he tears it apart and throws it away.

„What are you doing?! Leave me alone!“ My voice is high and not very loud. I try to push them away from me. They just laugh and push me back and forth again. Shorty puts his hand on my thigh, Fatty’s holding me so that I can barely move. I feel Shorty’s hand move upwards.

„This skirt is a real tease. Pretty baby.“ Shorty pushes my skirt down. I am only wearing my underwear now, and the wind feels cold on my skin. After looking at me for a couple of seconds, Shorty starts to open his belt. I deserve what’s going to happen. I learned it in school, heard it on the internet. Don’t walk around at night if you don’t have to and you better take someone with you. A boy if you can. Not all people are nice. I brushed it off because nobody I know has ever been in a situation like this. Our city isn’t too big, and everyone knows everyone. But I absently walked into nowhere. Now, these two guys will teach me to take people seriously when they say stuff like that. They will take my virginity from me. Forcefully. Nothing I can do about it now, right? Still, I move from side to side. Maybe Fatty gets tired and I can run away. But no, he does the opposite, tightens his grip. Shorty’s pants drop and he caresses my face, breathes a kiss on my mouth. He stops when the sound of another vehicle is audible. Another guy on a motorcycle comes to a stop next to us.

„What the fuck are you two motherfucking-shit-heads doing there?“ A deep, husky voice. Angry as fuck.

„We… Uhm…“ Shorty pulls his pants up again and turns away from me.

„Fuck off, man. This is illegal shit. We could go back to prison for this. Leave this bitch alone.“ They nod, and Fatty throws me into the meadow.

„This never happened. Understood?“ A question for me. Only one right answer.

„Yes.“ Barely audible. I nod to underline that I understood what they said. They look at me for a second before they get on their motorcycles and drive away.

I don’t dare move until the lights aren’t visible anymore. Logically thinking I would have to run back right now, go to the police. But my logical thinking doesn’t seem to work. When I finally stand again, my hands and knees are shaking. Tears are streaming down my cheeks again. I pull up my skirt and take my shirt. I put the shirt into my bag and take a deep breath. Another train drives by, this time I wince a lot harder. Some birds fly around again, this time farther than before. Birds have a life that’s so much better than the life of a human. They can just fly away if they don’t want to stay where they are. Isn’t that just the best life imaginable? _I want to be free, like a bird._


	4. Chapter 04

A bridge, covered with so many plants it appears green. Actually made out of stone, you can’t see that, though. Only green, plants, leaves, _is that there a flower?_ Tate and I used to play here when we were younger. It was our secret hide-out. About 30 minutes away from the city. Well by bike and we raced there, so maybe it’s even further away. We had to drive into a little forest. Dared each other to drive in there the first time, neither of us wanted to be the first one to drive through the gate. We were creeped out because the gate looked like it was straight out of a horror movie and it was overgrown with plants. We only hesitated the first few times, though. Later we only joked about how that old gate is consumed by plants. Sometimes we brought friends with us, who hesitated to drive through the gate at first too. But once we were at the bridge, no one was scared and we played hide and seek or tag. Later, when we got phones, we played music. Showed each other the newest songs we recorded. In the summer holidays, we were here every day. The river and the trees made the air rather cold, perfect for a hot summer day. Back then we didn’t see how much the plants grew. But now it’s obvious that nature takes back what belongs to her. I feel a tear roll down my cheek while I walk on the bridge, my hand softly touches the leaves. I sit down at the broken railing part, that’s always been there, nearly in the middle of the bridge. I loved sitting there, even if I once accidentally pushed a book down. Never found it again, but I had finished reading it anyways. Tate nearly cried when I told him, that’s how much he was laughing. A lot of good memories were made here. I look down at the water. I don’t remember it being this loud, guess we were too absorbed with whatever we were doing to realize that water is actually a really loud thing. I do remember birds chirping though, _they are all asleep now_. Swapped with insects, some flying through the air some hidden, only there to make annoying noises. _Stop thinking about insects, Avis. You don’t like them._ I try to concentrate on the water. Younger me was afraid, no, terrified to fall there. I remember I was told that if I do fall, I would get hurt badly, maybe even die. It’s because the bridge is rather high and the water isn’t deep. Back then this was an effective way to keep happy, little me away from this edge. But now I’m not scared anymore. When a bird loses grip and falls, it sure could fly away before hitting the ground. Right? _Maybe, I can too._ A broken bottle catches my attention. An all too well-known urge comes up in me. I shouldn’t, I know. Especially not with some random bottle that could’ve been here forever. It’s unhygienic, could cause me to get bacteria inside my body that I don’t want there. _Well, maybe I do._ I stretch and grab one of the glass pieces. I look at the glass, it’s dirty and sticky. But I don’t care. I place it on my thigh and cut a line. Not a deep one. The next one is deeper, a bit of blood can be seen. I feel like I should write down all my thoughts, to feel better. _Wasn’t that a tip I read on the internet the other day?_ The first thing I see when opening my bag is the shirt, that’s too torn to wear, I throw it on the ground next to me and take my phone. I open my notes and start to write.

I don’t know how often I deleted the sentences and started new. How often I had to stop myself from sugar-coating it. Two breaks from writing, two cuts on my arm. One close to my elbow, on the inside where I can see my veins. Not too deep. The next one just a bit under it, a little deeper. A thin red line. I kept writing after making them. The urge to write everything down was stronger than the urge to hurt me.

I read the text a couple of times, change it until I finally consent with it. Then I lay my phone down next to me. Exchange it with the piece of glass. The next two cuts happen fast, placed right under the other two. Always a bit closer to my wrist. One’s deeper than the other, both deeper than the one before them. 5-Cuts is what I call this, that means one more cut left. I look at the blood that’s dripping down my arm. _How long will it take for it to be fully covered?_ Making the deeper cuts wasn’t as painful as I always expected, but I guess the alcohol plays a role in this. The vibrating of my phone makes me wince. _'Dad'_ is all I can see before the light goes off again. I take my phone and open the message.

„Update: Jonah’s still in critical condition. The doctors aren’t sure if he will make it. Be strong. Call you later.“ My whole body starts to shake, my phone drops into my lap. More tears, making my vision blurry.

_I’m ready, there’s nothing to lose anymore anyways._ I place the glass on my wrist and push it down. This cut is vertical, connected with the other four. It’s the most painful cut ever and the not-that-sharp glass piece, that forces me to use more power than I would have to with a knife, isn’t making this any better. I cry out in agony, but this is what I wanted. _I decided to do this._ After reaching the last cut I throw the glass away. More tears, and so much blood. Suddenly I remember the note I wrote. With shaking hands, I try to get into my phone, smearing blood all over it. I try my best to copy and paste the message, and it takes several attempts before I can finally hit send. Dizzy, that’s how I feel now and my field of vision gets smaller by the second. The cold of the night is still there, I feel it now and hug myself. Accidentally smearing the blood all over my body. Some of it drips on my favorite skirt, but does that matter now? _No, Nothing matters anymore_. The world drowns in darkness. _Finally, I get to leave._ The last thing I feel, barely recognizable, is how my body tilts forward until I feel no contact with the bridge anymore. _Am I flying? Maybe, I’ll become a bird now._


End file.
